Toxic Influence Page 11

  Swift closed his eyes. "What's this about missing data?"

  "There was a magical barrier put in place on the laptop," said Bancroft. "Gutt and Zar were able to work it well enough, but…it was strong magic."

  Gutt nodded. "Zar took the brunt of it

  Swift stayed quiet a few seconds, then opened his eyes and turned his gaze back to the computer. "Sounds like one hell of a security system. Any way we could put it on the systems around here?"

  Gutt chimed in. "It should be doable, although reverse engineering it won't be easy." He sighed. "And for the record, the failing was not on Zar. It was my brashness that caused the problem."

  "Noted. Whatever. I'd rather lose the whole laptop than let one of you kill yourselves trying to do magic you can't do." Swift turned all his attention back to Kimmy. "What did the payer information give us?"

  "The email's hosted at this IP address. It's for a website called A Purer Midgard."

  "A Purer Midgard?" Bancroft rose and shimmied his way forward. "That is interesting. It speaks to a certain amount of motive, I would imagine."

  Swift got up and offered Bancroft his seat in front of the screen. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as Bancroft sat.

  Which left it to me, as I was beginning to guess would be the norm, to ask the question I thought was obvious. "What does A Purer Midgard mean? And what would it have to do with any kind of motive?"

  Bancroft removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "In Norse cosmology, there are nine realms supported by the world tree, Yggdrasil. Midgard is our world. Earth as we know it, separated from Hel and Asgard and Svartalfheim and all the others." He slowly slid his glasses back on. "If it's safe to assume that this website is attached directly to the terrorists, then clearly they feel there is some sort of impurity here. The attacks would likely to be to rectify those impurities, in that case."

  "Okay. So they want to purify Earth." I shrugged, unable to hold back that little bit of snark. "Pretty much every really bad group of people want to purify the Earth or the race or whatever."

  "But it's an answer," said Swift. "Plus it's something we haven't seen on this scale from a preet organization." He nodded to Kimmy. "Tear the whole site down from top to tail. I want to know what every single bit of information in there has to say, from the privacy policy to the stuff they commented out in the code."

  "Look at you. You actually knew they could leave comments in the HTML." Kimmy sounded…well, not impressed. Still hovering on the edge of anger as she said that, but it was as complimentary as I'd ever heard her. So one point for our illustrious leader.

  Swift left that and leaned down to Bancroft. "I need you and Gutt cross-checking for anything in history or in mythology about purifying Midgard, or cleaning it, or cleansing it."

  Bancroft nodded and got back to his feet. Kimmy swooped in and took back the chair as soon as he did.

  They all left, and King had disappeared somewhere along the way, too. I looked at Swift. "What exactly is Agent King doing?"

  "She's doing what she needs to do. That seniority nets her a little freedom in my book."

  That was as good an answer as I was probably going to get. "Okay, what do you need me to do?"

  "Well mainly I want you standing by to head out the door in case something happens. We still don't seem to have any way to reliably predict these attacks. But while you're on standby, I want you shadowing Kimmy."

  "Because…she needs help? I think she would disagree."

  "So would I. Kimmy doesn’t need help with that computer at all."

  From behind us, she chimed in. "You're right I don't need fucking help. Not now that it's open."

  Swift poorly suppressed a smile at that. "While you're waiting, I want you watching what she's pulling up. Note anything that looks interesting to you. Her report's going to be thorough, but boring and full of filler. Maybe you'll get to the core of everything a little faster."

  It made sense. And it carried with it the best chance of not being stuck behind a desk all day. "I'll suit up, then come back this way."

  Swift nodded and turned on his heel. But he apparently still wasn't done, even as he walked back toward his office. "Don't forget to stop by R and D for a sidearm, not the regular armory. Since we apparently can't hurt the bastards with normal bullets."

  Oh yeah. Like I was going to forget that.

  After sitting there for a whole day, plus the morning of a second day, watching Kimmy sift through every single photo on the site, plus copying and pasting all the text, I'd reaffirmed my conclusion that I wouldn't be frequenting A Purer Midgard in my time off.

  At the very least, it let us all know what exactly they wanted to purify out of Midgard. Namely us. Humans. The mingling of preternaturals and humans was a no go for whoever was behind this site. They also apparently weren't too thrilled with "the blood traitors" who left the Hidden Kingdoms to live here in the Mundane, either.

  All in all, it was a bad show for anyone on this side of the magical doorway. The message they'd delivered out with Eir lined up with this…even if the pattern of attacks didn't.

  "Fucking Christ!" Kimmy slammed her fist down on the desk and shoved her chair back. "I don't know if it's Gutt and Bancroft losing that shit, or if they're just routing this crap some convoluted way I don't understand, but I can't track down any info on who owns this hellhole website."

  It was the most words I'd ever heard Kimmy string together when she wasn't trying to insult someone. "I'm sure you can get it. It's just a matter of time. That's why you're here: you're the best."

  She glared at me, looked me up and down, then turned away without launching a volley. "I know I'm the best. And right now, the best needs another cup of coffee."

  But she didn't make it around to even getting up before King stormed into the room, looking all fire and fury, decked out in a bulletproof vest stitched through with sigils. "We got a suspicious fucker out in Chinatown, so move your ass."

  I was already up and getting ready when Swift marched in. "New York Field Office just called in."

  "And there's a suspicious fucker out in Chinatown. King already brought me the message."

  Swift looked actually shocked for all of a second, then nodded. "Might be nothing, but if it's actually something, then we better be there. You both armed?"

  King nodded. "I'll keep the kid safe, don't worry. Let's move. Zar already has transport for us." And just for good measure, and to show me how unprepared I was, King thrust one of the special gas masks into my hands. "Don't know if the fucking things actually help, since we still don't have magically reinforced gear to wear, but might as well try to not die."

  "Not dying. One of my favorite hobbies."

  We booked it over to remote transport, didn't even stop to acknowledge Zar. I was expecting to be let out in the street or in front of a building like we had been before. But instead, we got dumped in a cramped alleyway that smelled like piss and mold. Yay.

  "Why this place?"

  "Nothing's been closed or cleared." King was already working the clasps on her gas mask to get it on. "FBI agents popping up in the middle of a busy New York street might cause a couple crashes. And it would definitely alert everyone that the OPA is here."

  "Which would be bad. Cool." Gas masks and guns would probably also give us away, but whatever. I put my mask on and pulled the modified Glock out of the holster, then nodded to King.

  It was time to bust up one suspicious fucker out in Chinatown.

  Chapter Nine

  Whether it ruined stealth or not, we kept those gas masks on and tight as we approached the stoop of the apartment complex. We definitely got some weird looks, but as far as I was concerned, that was for the best. If us walking around in gas masks convinced passersby to stay the hell away from whatever might go down here? Fine by me.

  My phone rang once we actually got up to the top step. I glanced to King and she nodded, then we both pulled off our masks.

  I answered without c
hecking who it was. If it was an urgent call, then better not to let it go. If it wasn't…well, I could make time to yell at whoever it was later. And I put them on speaker so King could also yell at them later. "Agent Rourke."

  "We got word from the posted agents again." It was Swift, sounding remarkably non-perturbed. "Their suspect transported out."

  Damn it damn it damn it. I glanced over at King to see her mouth set in a stone-hard line, lips basically nonexistent in that purse. "So we don't need to be here?"

  "Not after you check through the complex. Just to make sure everything's on the up and up."

  "All right. Won't be long, then."

  "I fucking hate magic sometimes. At least human criminals have to stick around long enough to get clocked." King shook her head. "Fine. It's a stubby little complex. I'll take odds, you'll take evens. Let's get this over with so I can do some actual damn work that might lead somewhere."

  She snapped her gas mask back on and marched her way into the apartment complex. So that meeting was done and over with, apparently. King was already heading down the hallway on the first floor, and a quick glance showed that we were talking walk-ups only. Joy of joys, no elevator. So I jammed my way upstairs. It looked like we had about twelve apartments per floor. Best way would be to do a quick scan, then circle back if I didn't find anything worth reporting about.

  The second and fourth floors showed nothing but low-budget housing and a couple cockroach carcasses. Unless there was some really weird magic afoot, those were probably just part of the New York City special.

  The sixth floor was different. As soon as I hit the landing, my eyes fixed on the farthest door from the stairs. And right after that on the splintered wood littering the floor in front of the doorway.

  I unholstered the Glock first, led my way with that, then tapped on the walkie talkie. "King? We might have a situation on the top floor, here."

  Her voice crackled over the line, only slightly muffled by the gas mask. "We might have one?"

  "I'm heading in to check it out right now. Door busted open. Start clearing everyone just in case. Put the field office on alert."

  "Yeah, I know how to do my job. Check it out, greenhorn."

  With that, all that remained was that apartment. I moved at the best clip I could without making a total racket on my way, just in case someone was still in there waiting to light me on fire with his brain or something.

  The door and jamb were both busted apart, but there was char around the edges of the crater, and most of the splinters were also burned to black on the edges. Plus everything smelled of smoke once I got close enough. So it definitely wasn't just kicked down. I swallowed back my apprehension and crept my way in, careful not to disturb the door. I'd lived in a complex like this when I worked NYPD. Every hinge squeaked. Every single one, always.

  My heart was in my throat, and even the gentle click of my footsteps against the crappy wood laminate felt like thunder. My heart was lodged firmly in my throat as I continued on. The apartment appeared to be unoccupied, and had been for a long time if the dust was anything to judge on. No furniture in sight, and not even outlines where a couch or end table might have sat recently.

  I rounded the corner into the single bedroom and stopped dead. This wasn't just a weirdly broken door. This was…bad. There was a huge metal oval, like a massively oversized pill, and scratched out with dozens of runes. It had to be some kind of magic, and when you were looking for magic poison gas attacks, that was bad. That was really, really bad.

  I backed my way out of the apartment and grabbed my walkie. "King."

  "Yeah?"

  "Get your gas mask on and get out of here."

  So of course she walked in right then, talking to me face to face. "Make up your damn mind, Rourke."

  "There's something in there. We need everyone cleared out, and we need to go."

  She marched past me and peered into the bedroom instead of listening. But at least that convinced her. Her spine stiffened and her blue eyes struck to light. "Have you cleared any floors?"

  "Not yet."

  "Then let's move." She checked her gas mask as she backed out of the room. "Get the lead out, greenhorn. We can send someone in after this is empty."

  I followed right behind her, but the hair on the back of my neck stood straight up after just two god damn steps. There was hissing. I knew I wouldn't like what I saw if I turned, knew that looking wouldn't change a damn thing, but I did it anyway. I turned around and looked at the metal capsule in the bedroom.

  The runes on the metal glowed, first orange, then red, then white before the metal from the recessed parts sloughed onto the floor, molten hot and melting the laminate where it touched down.

  I swallowed hard and grabbed King's arm. "Bad, bad news." White fog already poured out of the new holes. Fast god damn fog. It already covered the bedroom floor and made a dead rush for the doorway.

  I pushed King ahead of me and ran myself. "Start knocking now!" I thought of Oscar, laying out in that park, his legs attacked and forcing him down face-first into the poison gas. We'd die. We'd all die painfully, which oddly enough wasn't on my bucket list. I slammed the door shut behind me in a vain attempt to hold the gas back by a second or two.

  "FBI!" King's voice was massive, filling the entire hallway as she barreled down, slamming her fists on the doors as she passed by. "Clear out of your apartments now! This is an emergency! FBI!"

  To their credit, people came out quickly, wide-eyed and pale-faced all of them. Some with children, some with dogs, some alone. I ushered them, got them to run as fast as I could. All the while, the white fog rushed after us. I couldn't stop moving. I had to be rough with everyone, because they wanted to stop, wanted to ask questions. They couldn't.

  Stopping equaled death.

  I took the steps two at a time and started on my way down the fifith floor hallway, knowing that was the point the poison gas would catch up. I reached for the walkie as I ran. "King, did you clear anyone else?"

  "First floor, and I called into the field office. They're on it. No more walkies."

  The field agents wouldn't have made it up this far, yet. So we ran the hallways, King screaming, me forcing people toward the stairs even as tendrils or burning white snaked their way across each riser and into the hallway in front of them. "Hold your breath and run fast. Go. Go fast. Just run."

  The one thing I couldn't tell any of them was that it would be okay. It wouldn't. Someone would die here. If we were exceptionally lucky, that someone would be an FBI agent, not a civilian. That was our best case: that me or Agent King or one of the New York field agents would succumb to death by poisoning in this fucking apartment complex, but no one else.

  We only had to go halfway down the hall thanks to King's voice, and the poison mist hadn't completely blocked off the exit to the stairs. And, luck of all luck, another two agents had come up to help people get through it. And the poor bastards didn't have enough gas masks to go around, or R and D hadn't made enough yet, or something. They were just…holding their breath.

  I didn't dare stop to talk, question, any of that. I just let them go as quickly as I could and pretended I didn't see them both stumbling back out of the poison. The poison that now climbed the walls. I glanced over my shoulder at King and she offered me one curt nod. Then it was go time.

  Everything burned as soon as I stepped into the smoke. I ran as fast as was safe without tumbling face first down the stairs, even though my legs already wanted to just stop and let the fire consume them. I knew if I even hesitated, I'd be down for the count

  King and I stayed even down to the third floor. But when I saw tendrils of white smoke creeping up at me, I faltered. All my training fell out of my head as my stomach hit the floor. We'd missed something, or an attacker had shown up downstairs. For a minute, I'd let myself hope. I'd let myself think that this might not end badly. But that slithering white ended all of that in an instant, and I froze there just above the next landing.

&nbs
p; King shoved me forward as she passed. "Die pissing yourself or die fighting, Rourke."

  She was right and I knew it. So I moved. I ran straight down the stairs, right into the growing white fog. If anyone remained in those apartments…then they'd stay there. We had to get the people who were definitely alive out of there.

  The mist bit and burned at every bit of exposed skin, and within seconds I felt it working its way into the unexposed skin as well. My thighs quivered, very quickly struggling to hold my own body weight. Between the mask and the thick white fog, I could barely see an inch in front of me, had to rely on instinct to tell me where the next riser was. I swallowed hard. One misstep, that was it. Once you were down in this poison, there wasn't a whole lot of getting back up.

  At least not alive.

  Someone screamed up ahead, a guttural, pained, shocked cry. I couldn't see anything until I was almost right on top of it. King was on her hands and knees, gas mask askew, the fog swirling around her and blackening her hands. Every inch of her vibrated. I was weak. I couldn't god damn lift her and carry her out of here. Not even if she'd been a waif like Kimmy.

  I got down to her and shook her. "Hey, get your ass up." I pulled and yanked, trying to drag her back to something resembling standing, and all the while my heart pounded in my ears, bile threatening to fly free from my throat. I reached down and readjusted her gas mask so it covered properly.

  My fingers were decaying and didn't want to work.

  "Die pissing yourself or die fighting, right?" It was hard to catch my breath, now. My lungs didn't burn, but there was something wrong. And King and I were completely alone.

  It was take a risk or she'd die. I slipped under her, holding back my shivering. If she collapsed, I wasn't getting back up. "Move your ass, King. Help me. Or are you just a big pussy? Can't even handle a little deadly poison gas?"